Last Fight

by S. J. Bryant

  Mackay sighed. "I'm sorry this one has wasted your time, sir. Unfortunately, he is known to me. He worked here until recently but he failed to make quota on a number of occasions. He was quite bitter about not being paid the full amount for those days."

  Haige's nostrils flared and he rounded on Aart. "Is that true?"

  "No! He's lying."

  "You dragged me all the way out here with some ridiculous lie—"

  "He's telling the truth," Tyra said. "I saw the shed for myself just yesterday. They were fighting."

  "And why would I believe you? A couple of bounty hunters trying to cause trouble," Haige said. "I can't believe I came all this way."

  "Perhaps a drink would help?" Mackay said.

  "Yes, Mackay, that would be perfect. I shouldn't have doubted you, I'm sorry."

  "Not at all, sir, I know how difficult these types can be."

  "Not too difficult, I hope. He said that if he was wrong that he'd work on the plantation for a year without pay."

  Aart's stomach dropped and Mackay grinned.

  "Really?"

  An enforcer handed the general an amber drink and he swallowed it down with one mouthful. "What a bloody waste of time."

  "No," Aart said. "They've hidden it, but they couldn't have gone far."

  He dashed away from them to the back of the room, to the curtains, and dragged them aside. The small cot with the table stood inside, but no people.

  "Delia!" Aart bellowed. "Delia!"

  "You're only embarrassing yourself," Mackay said.

  "You're lucky I don't just shoot you now for the trouble you've caused," Haige said.

  "There's no other exit and I didn't see her go out the front, so she's here somewhere, you bastard."

  Aart turned in a tight circle. The smooth metal walls of the shed didn't offer many places to hide; in fact, there was nothing except the crates of alcohol. Aart narrowed his eyes and strode for the boxes.

  "I think you've caused enough trouble," Mackay said, and gestured to the enforcers.

  Two stepped forward and grabbed Aart's arms, hauling him away from the crates.

  "Let me go! She's in there, sir, I know she is. Delia!"

  Mackay rolled his eyes and poured the general another drink. "Like I said, he's nothing but trouble."

  Aart writhed against the enforcers but couldn't break free, not without snapping the bones in his arms. "Tyra! Your specialty."

  Tyra frowned. "My specialty?"

  Aart stared into her eyes; she had to understand, it was his only chance. "It just has to be a little one."

  Tyra's eyes widened.

  "What's he talking about?" Haige said.

  Tyra fiddled with something at her belt and then hurled it across the room toward Aart and the boxes.

  Aart stopped struggling and let his body go limp so that he dropped to the ground and dragged the enforcers down on top of him.

  Heat and shrapnel exploded out behind Aart but the enforcers' bodies protected him from the worst of it. They screamed and released him as they clutched at bloody gashes across their arms and backs.

  "What the devil…" Haige said.

  "You bitch!" Mackay said.

  "You call that a small one?" Aart said. He spun and ran toward the smoking wreckage of crates.

  Tyra skidded to a stop at his side. "It was directional…"

  The first crate had been reduced to splinters and shards of broken glass but the others stood just as they had before the explosion.

  "Impressive," Aart said.

  He grabbed the top-most crate and dragged it sideways. It teetered on the edge of the stack and clattered to the ground to the sound of breaking glass.

  "Stop them!" Mackay yelled.

  Dazed enforcers staggered toward them from all corners of the room.

  The general wiped dust off his shoulders and glared at Aart and Tyra. "The fields are too good for them. I think I'm going to have to take care of this myself."

  Aart ignored the rest of their conversation and bent his back to shoving the crates aside. Tyra worked beside him and together they cleared a hole to the center of the pile.

  An enforcer snatched hold of Aart just as he dragged the last crate away.

  Delia lay behind it, blood poured down her face and pooled on the ground beneath her.

  "Delia!" Aart said.

  The enforcer dragged him away from the crates, which still hid her from the general.

  "That's quite enough of this nonsense," Haige said. He pulled his plasma pistol from his belt.

  "She's there," Aart said. His voice caught in his throat. Delia hadn't moved when he'd called her name and her face was so pale… "Please, sir, before you kill me just have a look behind the crates."

  "I think you've wasted enough of the general's time," Mackay said, but his eyes kept flying to the pile of crates.

  "Just look," Tyra said. Two enforcers had her arms pinned behind her back. "She doesn't look good."

  "Oh, bloody hell," Haige said. He marched across the sandy floor toward the crates and stumbled to a stop. "What—?"

  He ran into the gap and knelt on the ground.

  Aart sagged.

  "Oh no you don't," Mackay said. He strode forward and slammed the barrel of his gun into Aart's temple. "You're not getting away with this."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  "Mackay!" Haige said. "Lower your weapon this instant or I will send you to Ankar."

  Mackay's mouth twisted and he pressed the gun harder into Aart's temple. Aart stayed as still as he could, one wrong move and Mackay would turn his brains to mush.

  "Mackay!"

  Mackay lowered his gun and looked at Haige over Aart's shoulder. "I can explain."

  "I'm sure you can, I'm sure you have a number of excuses planned. If you move one inch from where you're standing, I'll shoot you myself." Haige rounded on the other enforcers. "Let those hunters go. You have two options, either you side with Mackay and suffer the same fate, or you do exactly as I say."

  The enforcers released Aart and Tyra. Aart backed away from Mackay and massaged his aching temple; he'd probably have a barrel-shaped bruise by morning.

  "Here! Now!" Haige said.

  The enforcers formed an awkward line in front of the general.

  "That was way too close," Tyra said, sidling up to Aart.

  He nodded and studied the enforcers, but kept one eye on Mackay in case he decided to try to escape.

  "All right; you two, get a medic here, now!" Haige said.

  "There's one already here," Aart said. He pointed to the enforcer near the end who scowled as he lifted his head. Jonas.

  "Is that true?" Haige towered over Jonas.

  "I have some medical training, yes."

  "Then get in there and save her! If she dies, you die."

  Jonas' face went pale. "Yes, sir." He dashed past the crates.

  Haige pointed to two enforcers. "Are there any other injured workers?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then who was she fighting?"

  The enforcers stared at the ground.

  "I said… who was she fighting?"

  An enforcer near the middle cleared his throat. "She was… uh… fighting us, sir."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Well, you see, she'd caused trouble and so it was kind of a warning to others…"

  Haige's nostrils flared, he glared at Mackay. "Is that true?"

  Mackay nodded. Red crept up his neck and he glared at Aart, murder in his eyes.

  "Disgusting! Despicable! I can't believe this kind of behavior has been going on at my plantation. You should all be ashamed of yourselves."

  The enforcers didn't meet Haige's gaze but to Aart, some looked more sorry than others.

  "What about illegally extending contracts? Is that true?"

  The enforcer who'd spoken up glanced over his shoulder at Mackay and then nodded.

  "It was his idea?"

  The enforcers shuffled.

  "Speak now, or so help me I
will see each and every one of you strung up for the birds to eat."

  "He… he was in charge."

  "Right, get every single enforcer on this damned planet here. This instant!"

  The enforcers snatched the communicators from their belts while General Haige spoke into his own communicator.

  Aart and Tyra edged around the line of enforcers and into the area behind the crates where Delia lay. Jonas swiped blood from her forehead with a dirty rag.

  Aart fell to his knees at her side. Her right arm twisted up and away from her body and bruises showed through tears in her clothing.

  He stared at her face; he didn't know her, not really, and yet his gut twisted when he looked at her. She was the whole reason he'd come to Raster; she'd started all of it, even though she didn't mean to.

  Jonas glanced at him and then away.

  "Will she survive?" Aart said.

  Jonas shrugged.

  "If you let her die, I'll make sure you die too."

  "Yeah, yeah. That's what your general friend said." Jonas reset Delia's arm and laid it on the ground at her side.

  "You should have helped her sooner."

  "I was just doing what I'm told."

  "You're a monster. If she dies—"

  "She'll live! It looks worse than it is."

  "She's unconscious!"

  "People are knocked unconscious all the time."

  Aart's hands clenched and he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around Jonas' neck and squeeze. "You'll pay for what you did here."

  "And what exactly did I do? Save your life?"

  "You know what I mean."

  "I did less than most of those low-lives." Jonas jutted his chin to the enforcers. "I followed orders and healed the people I was told to."

  "You knew what was happening and you did nothing."

  "I was a prisoner here, same as you."

  "We're not the same."

  Jonas snorted. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." He stood and wiped his bloody hands on his pants. "I've done all I can for her."

  "You better have."

  Jonas sauntered over to join the other enforcers.

  Aart checked Delia's pulse and then stood. Enforcers poured through the doors, all of them pale-faced. They crept into the shed with hunched shoulders and didn't look at Mackay. When the flow of people stopped, Haige stood in front of them, legs spread and hands behind his back.

  "Is that the lot of you?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. If it were up to me, you'd all be sent to the prisons," Haige said. "But that would mean a full Confederacy inquiry and I do not want this coming back to me. So, you will all stay here and work the fields."

  The enforcers heads snapped up and they shared glances.

  "For a year."

  Some gasped; some looked around the room as if for a way out.

  "I wouldn't run if I were you," Haige said. "The Confederacy can find you anywhere. Besides, you'll be given a better deal than you ever offered your workers. You'll get proper medical care, so long as you make quota you'll be allowed to leave, and the threat of this place won't hang over you."

  The enforcers hung their heads. Even the ones who hadn't seemed sorry for what they'd done looked worried now.

  "If you try to escape, I will see you killed. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, sir," they said in unison.

  "Get out of my sight."

  The enforcers turned and surged for the door, Mackay went to join them.

  "Not you, Mackay," Haige said.

  Mackay paled. "Sir?"

  "I'm not an idiot. Any fool can see that you arranged all this. I trusted you. This isn't the first time people have come to me with rumors, but I dismissed them. I always defended you because I thought I knew you. Do you know how much of a fool that makes me look?"

  "Sir, it was a simple mistake. It's not as bad as it looks. In fact—"

  "Silence! I know how your silver tongue works. But I've had enough of it. You won't get off lightly like these others."

  Mackay swallowed.

  "There's only one punishment fitting for you."

  "Sir?"

  "You will fight, here, with the same rules as you've used all this time, against an opponent of the hunter's choosing."

  "What?" Mackay staggered back. "No, sir. You can't."

  "Oh, I can."

  "But he'll see me killed!"

  Aart couldn't disagree. One look at Delia's prone body made his blood boil. Mackay deserved everything he got, and worse. Aart relished in the thought of slamming his fist into Mackay's face, again and again until blood poured down and Mackay collapsed. The maggot deserved to die.

  "Isn't that what you tried to do to him, and others?" Haige said.

  "But, sir. You and I are friends, you know me. I fought beside you during the Blakgar uprising."

  "Yes, we were friends. But you've changed since Blakgar. I don't know what happened to you, but you're not the same man."

  "I am the same. If we just sat down over a drink, I'm sure—"

  "No."

  "You'd sentence me to death like this? You'd betray me?"

  "You were the one who chose to stab me in the back; don't ever forget that."

  "But, this?"

  "It's the least you deserve."

  Mackay looked between Aart and Haige, and then turned and sprinted for the door.

  "Stop him!" Haige said.

  The doors burst open and two men in Confederacy uniforms stepped through. They caught Mackay about his waist and knocked him to the ground. They then dragged him back to Haige, kicking and screaming.

  Aart's heart clenched at the sight of the all-too-familiar uniforms. Confederacy soldiers. Of course it made sense that Haige would have some with him, he was a general after all, but it didn't stop sweat beading across Aart's forehead. What if they took him prisoner? What if they dragged him back to Goldson? He shivered; the uniforms brought back too many painful memories.

  "Mercy, please." Tears poured down Mackay's face and dirt coated his uniform.

  Haige looked down his nose. "How many workers have begged you for the same thing?"

  Mackay collapsed to his knees and hung his head.

  Haige glanced at Aart. "You will choose an appropriate opponent."

  "Yes, sir."

  Aart ran through in his head all the workers he knew who'd love to have their chance against Mackay. He even considered getting in the ring himself, but he knew he wasn't the best fighter, and there were other workers who deserved revenge more than he did.

  Mackay probably wouldn't present much of a challenge. He was tough enough when he stood behind a gun, but Aart suspected that in hand-to-hand combat he'd be less than useless. So there wasn't any real danger to whoever he recommended; it was more of a chance for revenge.

  He glanced down at Delia, but she'd be in no condition to fight, not for a while. At least her breathing looked stable. But what if they'd taken slightly longer to get back to Raster? Aart's stomach turned; she'd be dead.

  Aart glared at Mackay and wished that the man could feel all the pain that he'd caused to so many people. No matter how much he suffered, it would never match what he'd inflicted. Aart thought of Charl, who'd been murdered because of an injured finger. That was Mackay's fault too, even if he wasn't the one that pulled the trigger.

  "I'm sure I can think of someone," Aart said.

  "Good." Haige bent down so that his face was inches from Mackay's. "You brought this upon yourself."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sound pummeled Aart from all directions like a physical force; shouting, stomping feet, raised voices. He stood on a raised platform with Haige, Tyra, and two Confederacy soldiers, away from the elbows of the jostling crowd below. The shed pulsed with energy. Among the usual gamblers and low-lives, stood workers from the plantation. Aart recognized some of them, including Cole and the others from South Field A. Energy buzzed through the crowd like an over-loaded circuit.

  "Atte
ntion, please," Haige said and his voice boomed through the speakers.

  The crowd hushed.

  "Thank you all for coming. To the workers here, I can't apologize enough for the treatment you've received while at the plantation. I assure you, neither I nor the Confederacy knew what was happening here. You are all free to leave, regardless of your current contract status. However, if you choose to stay, you will be paid a bonus and receive my personal guarantee that the treatment you received before is in the past."

  Many in the crowd cheered, but others, the older ones, or the ones who'd been stuck on Raster for years, only nodded.

  "As I'm sure you're all aware. The main person responsible for the misdeeds has been identified, which is why we're all here. As punishment, Mackay will be forced to fight in the ring against a formidable opponent, who I believe many of you will recognize; Teak."

  The workers in the crowd roared and clapped.

  "Looks like you made a good choice," Haige said to Aart.

  Aart nodded. Many people on Raster deserved revenge on Mackay, but few as much as Teak.

  "Bring the fighters!" Haige said.

  Teak strode out of the crowd, grinning. Many people slapped him on the back as he went past. He paused at the edge of the ring and lifted his hand to Aart who nodded back.

  A commotion erupted at the other side of the ring. A handful of workers dragged Mackay from where he'd been chained behind the curtain at the back and shoved him into the ring. He tried to get out, but the crowd shoved him back. He spun, eyes wide and face white.

  Aart sidled closer to Tyra. "Is this right?"

  She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

  "Look at him. I want him punished as much as the next person, but this… it seems barbaric."

  "It's not our place to say," Tyra said. "We're just bounty hunters. You brought the guilty person to justice, but it's up to Haige and the workers to decide what his punishment is."

  "It doesn't feel right."

  "We can go if you want."

  "No. I have to stay and see it through to the end."

  Tyra nodded and Aart turned his attention back to the ring. His stomach curdled but he forced himself to watch. He'd brought this about; he had to take responsibility for what happened.